"If it had been a monastery I should have asked for shelter to-night," I said; "and from the number of voices singing mass, I concluded that it was a religious institution."
"Souls that are weary are admitted here for rest and guidance and help," he replied, "and some have passed from here to some religious home. This is by the kindness of the owner of this house. But why do you ask? Are you a Catholic? Are you, amid so much heresy, a member of the true fold?"
At this time I wished that I had prepared for a meeting with a priest, so that I might have been in a better position to have fulfilled my desires. I wished, too, that, instead of being slow to think, I had been clever to make plans, and quick to act upon them. Still, I determined to do the best I could.
"I am but a wanderer, father," I said, "and my mind hath been torn by many doubts. I have been troubled, too, about one who is very dear to me, who is of the Catholic faith, and who, I am told, found her way to a convent or a religious home, to find rest and peace. I know not where she is, and whether she has found the peace that she hoped for. I have heard that it was in this neighbourhood that she sought to find what she desired."
"Is she young or old, young man?" said the priest, looking keenly at me.
"She is young," I replied, "scarcely twenty, I should think."
"And her name?"
"Her name is Naomi Penryn," I replied; "she once lived at Trevose, close by the great headland."
I thought he gave a start, and he seemed to measure me, as though he thought of trying whether he or I was the stronger man.